


Worth Fighting For

by Thymesis



Category: American Gods (TV)
Genre: Extra Treat, M/M, Missing Scene, Trick or Treat 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2019-01-28 15:57:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12610228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thymesis/pseuds/Thymesis
Summary: The Ifrit changes his mind.





	Worth Fighting For

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Esteliel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esteliel/gifts).



> Posted to the exchange on November 2, 2017 (post-opening/pre-author reveals).

He had wanted no part of the war that was to come. He’d told Odin so in no uncertain terms, and he’d thought that he would do anything to get away. Anything at all.

He would even fuck a lonely, closeted gay man, and he’d give him the night of his life. Yes, if that’s what it took.

That was indeed what it had taken, and he, in turn, had taken the Omani’s clothes, his passport, and his return ticket home. As a favor, he’d taken the case full of shit as well.

It was ridiculous, really. Never mind post-9/11 Islamophobia. Never mind the orange al’abalah’s Muslim ban. He’d barely merited a second glance as he’d passed through security at JFK. Some days, he was mistaken for a terrorist. Today, it seemed that he was merely another invisible brown person. Or maybe America was just eager to be rid of him for good.

The first leg of his journey would take him from New York to Doha. The second leg from Doha onward to his final destination of Muscat hardly mattered. It was that first flight that counted, for that was the one that would take him to a place where the grandmothers still believed in Jinn.

He had just under an hour before boarding began. Idly, he flicked through the pages of his ill-gotten passport. Only one stamp, courtesy of US immigration. So, it had been the Omani’s first time out of Oman. He looked at the photo. Young. Handsome. Big, sweet, trusting brown eyes.

_Those eyes had wept tears of joy as they’d fucked._

The owner of those eyes wouldn’t have to hide his true self in America. He’d be better off as the (gay) taxi driver Ibrahim bin Irem…wouldn’t he? Wouldn’t he?!

No, the storm was coming. He knew it would destroy everything in its path. He knew.

The Ifrit was gone from the airport before the pre-boarding call was announced.

Maybe he wouldn’t flee. Maybe he would join the Old Gods at the House on the Rock. Maybe, he decided, he had something worth fighting for after all:

An America where Salim could be happy.

 

END


End file.
